Mistletoe and Wine
by AnnieXMuller
Summary: A series of snowy Christmas ficlets. Short one-shots, that are all connected. Set Season 5.
1. Dreams of Snow

**A series of snowy Christmas ficlets. Short one-shots, that are all connected. **  
**Later chapters will be M rated.**

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_Dreams of Snow_

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_December 22nd 2012_

She sensed the change outside before she became fully aware of it. Curled up against his side, her body always gravitating to his even when asleep, she dreamed of white footpaths and shrouded skies. Images of a city blanketed by fresh, white powder filled her mind. She could almost smell it - _snow_.

She opened her eyes, blinked away the cobwebs of sleep, and held her breath.

The blinds were down in Castle's bedroom, shielding them from the world outside, but something had changed. She knew, somehow, that the mild weather of the previous day had shifted overnight_ - _but what had made her aware of that?

Exhaling slowly through her nose, Kate rolled onto her back - and listened.

And then, she heard it. The sound that had filtered into her unconscious mind and influenced her dreams.  
A faint, wet, tap, of something soft hitting the window, repetitive and familiar.

_It was snowing._

She grinned._  
_

Born and raised in the city, snow was a hindrance more than a wonder. It slowed her down on the roads, and made others around her more stupid behind the wheel. It turned the sidewalks grey and slippery, creating hazards where none had been previous.

Yet, she loved it.

Snow pushed the stiletto pumps back into the dark depths of her closet, and brought the heeled boots to the front. The coats in the closet, in her apartment's small vestibule, became her last stop on the way out the door, and the first upon arriving home. A steaming cup of coffee at the precinct held even more enjoyment, and Castle's hot chocolate became a fixed part of her evening routine.

As had sleeping in his bed.

Slipping quietly out from under the blankets, Kate padded barefoot to the window and pulled the blinds, revealing the city beyond. As the snow fell, lightly in the night, she exhaled a contented breath.

Christmas would be white this year.

"You okay?"

Castle's voice broke her out of her wintery reverie, and she turned and smiled at him.

He looked past her, into the night, and smiled in return. "Don't tell me Kate Beckett still gets excited by snow?"

She left the blinds up, and returned to the bed. "Just the first snow," she replied, allowing another layer to be peeled off, another piece of her to be revealed.

He opened his arms to her, nodding as she pressed her body to his. "Any first snow rituals I should be aware of?"

She stretched and wiggled, turning onto her side to face out the window. His body spooning hers from behind, his arms wrapped securely around her, she linked her fingers with his and considered it for a moment. "I think it's time to create new ones."

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**AN: So... I had to. This is dedicated to Brooke, KyinHi, and HopeW, who had me tweeting from the grave with all the Xmas smut talk. Naturally I couldn't resist the ideas being thrown out. So here's mine. There's no stubble, and no angry sex, but I couldn't resist the fireplace, rug, and tree. **  
**Go read KyinHi's **_**Joyful Propositions **_**for stubbly sexy fun. **


	2. Fingers numb, faces aglow

A series of snowy Christmas ficlets. Short one-shots, that are all connected.

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_Fingers numb, face aglow_

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_December 23rd 2012_

The day stretched out, long and dark and cold. The current investigation tested the last of her patience, drawing upon all of her skills to work through it. At the scene, in the middle of a city park, she had cursed the weather. The sleet coming down was just enough to dampen both her spirits and clothing, and she longed to return to the precinct. Once back at the precinct, she longed for a window to gaze out of, to see if the snow was sticking.

By evening it was.

When a clear head and fresh eyes were necessary, and the need to call it a day became too strong, Kate wearily agreed to accompanying Castle home, too tired to argue.

Sliding into the back of the cab beside her partner she pressed her side to his, unable to suppress the shiver that ran through her. The temperature inside the cab was barely warmer than outside, the driver unwilling to turn on the heat. _Where was he from?_ She wondered. _Siberia?_

The chill in the air seeped through her winter gloves, the material failing to keep her fingers from feeling just a little stiff, a little too cold. With no coffee cup in her hands, she stuffed them deep into the pockets of her coat, and wiggled them to regain feeling.

Castle's arm snaked around her shoulders, tugging her body even closer to his, sharing his warmth. She smiled a thank you, and rested against him for the remainder of the ride.

She wanted to soak in a hot bath, drink red wine, and no longer allow the worries of the day to drag her down. But she would be content to just grab a bite to eat, before curling up next to him in his bed.

Warm. She just wanted to be warm.

* * *

They returned to an empty loft, Castle having already begged Martha to make other arrangements that night. Kate had stood listening to the conversation, mortified by Castle's pleas. But the older woman's voice over the speakerphone had soothed her with an amused chuckle and words of, "Be good, kids."

And surely she was beyond being embarrassed that Castle's mother was aware she was sleeping with her son.

Apparently not, it seemed, as the warmth in her face reminded her that her cheeks were just a slightly pinker hue than normal.

His fingers curled at her waist as he led her into the warm living room, and the feel of his body against hers, his comforting scent surrounding her, sent thoughts of food and relaxation fleeing from her mind. An empty loft and a roaring fire - and everyone who knew them now well aware of what they'd been getting up to since May.

Food could definitely wait.

* * *

Last December she hadn't dared dream that a year from then she would be laid naked upon a white faux fur rug in Castle's living room, his lips trailing across skin illuminated only by the flickering light from the fireplace before them.

She could have spent the last four Christmases in his arms, if only she'd been in the right place; if only she had been a little less stubborn, a little more brave.

If only, if only.

Such thoughts banished, Kate had hooked her pinky round his, and led him toward the fireplace with her lower lip firmly caught between her teeth, and a teasing smile on her face.

Both were almost stripped of all clothing, when Castle had turned and moved to the window. She had called him back, asked for the blinds to be up, to let the voyeurs have their fun. She just wanted to see the snow.

Warm and contented, she had sank into the rug, letting the tension flow out of her.

It was then that she left her job behind, pushed the case from her mind, and stretched out languidly, allowing him to love her.

His lips trailed a line of kisses up to her knee, to her thigh. Her body shivered in anticipation, her fingers sinking deep into soft fur, clasping handfuls in her fist.

His tongue, his lips, caressed her inner-thigh, soothed away the day.

He traveled past where she needed his most, a frustrated groan leaving her own lips as he journeyed up and over the protrusion of her hip, the flat plane of her stomach, the curve of her waist.

Her heels pressed into the soft fur, sliding aside as she pulled her knees up. He slipped between her legs, his palms pressed deep into the rug on either side of her head. Naked and warm his body covered hers, his fingers threading through her hair, gentle caresses, careful not to tug on the long tresses.

One hand untangled from her hair, trailing down her long neck, her chest, over the curve of her breast. His lips found hers, her mouth opening, tongues sliding. His thumb swept across her nipple, and she arched up off the rug, pressing her lips harder to his, sighing into his mouth.

In the darkened room, the area surrounding them lit only by flickering fire light, her body aroused and her skin glowing, the magic of the holiday season was suddenly undeniable, almost tangible. And in his eyes, for less than a second before he blinked, she swore she saw Christmas lights reflected there.

And maybe something more...

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_AN: Because a real fur rug would be cruel... _


	3. Love and laughter and joy ever after

**A series of snowy Christmas ficlets. Short one-shots, that are all connected. **  
**Now rated M. **

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_Love and laughter and joy ever after_

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_Mid-December_

He had never been in her apartment near Christmas, never seen just how seriously she took the holiday.

Before May, before she'd had an epiphany on a swing set in the rain, she knew he had seen her as someone more likely to spend Christmas at the precinct, than at home.

She had never done neither.

Throughout her father's battles, and no matter how deep she had been, weighed down by her own grief, she had always spent Christmas day with her father, at his apartment, just the two of them.  
And every year in her own apartment, in a corner beside the small 2-seater couch, stood a Christmas tree she alone had decorated. Small, but standing proud, a reminder to find joy in spite of whatever may be happening around her.

This year, Castle had helped. She had allowed him in just a little more, and invited him to share her once private traditions with her.

Together they had trimmed the tree, Kate switching between chuckling with him when he tried to drape a garland around her, and admonishing him when he held baubles just a little too suggestively against himself. The string of lights the final touch, she hit the light switch beside the kitchen, and with his arms wrapped securely around her, his body pressed against her back, they stood before the tree in the darkened apartment, admiring their work.

* * *

_December 24th _

A bottle of wine stood empty on the coffee table, their glasses long drained. Her body warm, just slightly buzzed, she stood beside the twinkling Christmas lights. One of her hands rested on the arm of the couch beside her, the other turned the string of a bauble between her fingers. The pale glass ornament hung from the Christmas tree, spinning and catching the light, but she wasn't focused on that, almost unaware she was even moving it. Eyes trained ahead, Kate gazed out at the white landscape beyond her living room window, smiling softly to herself as the snow fell gently outside. She turned to where Castle sat at the end of the couch, so close to her, her lips parted ready to comment on the views she was absorbing, when she paused, blinked, frowned slightly at the intensity of his blue eyes on her.

"You are beautiful."

Her features softened, and her breath hitched at his tone; a second set of lights flicked on, the timer clicking over, and the added light showed the intensity in his eyes for what it actually was: love, so much love, and wonder. She lifted her hand off the arm rest, and reached for him. He silently watched her as she linked her fingers through his. She squeezed his hand while she struggled to find the words, hoping the gesture spoke the 'thank you' she was unable to say out loud. He tugged at her hand, but she refused to move, tugging back to move him instead. She dropped his hand as he moved to stand in front of her - and she didn't care that he was blocking her view of the falling snow. He leaned in, her mouth opening as his lips met hers; they kissed in front of the Christmas tree, a slow, sensual exploration of mouths, tongues, and lips. She sighed into his mouth, pulled him closer with hands curled at his waist. As they kissed, they maneuvered back, away from the window but still within reach of the tree.

The sound of their wet lips separating filled her with mirth, and she chuckled, grinned at him, thinking to herself it was as though their skin was voicing its displeasure at being parted. And she agreed. She dropped to her knees, tugging him down with her, her lips quick to find his once more.

He laid her down beneath the garlands and baubles, on a thin scattering of pine needles, their bodies lit only by the multicolored flickering of the Christmas lights.

He dragged and peeled the clothing off her body, her nimble fingers quickly shedding him of his, until her bare back made contact with the cool apartment floor, and his warm skin covered hers. Flesh against flesh, he slipped a leg between hers, eased her own further apart. The feel of him brushing against her, the anticipation of him within her, was more foreplay than she needed, and she angled her pelvis, shifted her hips, and told him to hurry up without words. Her malleable body arched up smoothly, his hands at her waist effortlessly lifted her; he held her hips securely and entered her.

She breathed out a sigh as he filled her, her pelvis pressed harder to his, her body arched just a little more - and then she sunk down. Her back reconnected with the floor, but she no longer felt the soft pricking of the pine needles, no longer felt the discomfort from the cool, hard surface against her skin. All she felt was him, moving inside her, the heat from the friction spreading through her, consuming her.

She raised her arms up, back, stretching them out past her head, until her hands connected with the side of an armchair, and she pushed against it, meeting his thrusts with a steadier rhythm.

Long and lean beneath him, her breasts bounced with the movement of their bodies meeting, and she smiled as his eyes drifted to her chest, and remained there - mesmerized.

The feelings intensified; she felt his strokes grow shorter, less controlled, and as he hit all the right places she lost her ability to think, almost to breathe. Her hands moved back to him, snaked around his neck, and she raised her body ever so slightly. She dipped her head, dropped it to his shoulder, and she clung to him as her release built.

She stilled, his movements never ceasing, and small gasps of pleasure left her lips as she reached her peak; she let go, her muscles contracting around him, the waves of pleasure coursing through her, and she shuddered against him as she rode them out.

Reds and blues, whites and greens, the light from the tree bounced off their shimmering skin, their bodies slicked with a thin sheen of sweat. She saw it on her arm, slung over his shoulder, wrapped around his neck, as she lifted her head and turned to plant breathless kisses to his salty, stubble-roughened jaw.

He lowered her head carefully back down to the floor, and hitched her leg high around his waist, holding it tight against him. She rested her palms on his cheeks, framing his face, and her fingertips brushed against his rough skin as he moved within her. Soon, with short, sharp strokes, he found his own release.

* * *

Later, as she lay peacefully in his arms, stretched out languidly on her living room floor, between her couch and the Christmas tree, her eyes searched for the time. She strained to read the numbers on the wall-mounted, round face of the clock above the couch, beside the tree.

One.

She guessed.

Or five minutes past twelve.

Either way, her next move would be the same.

She smiled and turned in his arms. Her nose brushing his, their lips almost touching, she breathed two words against his skin.

"Merry Christmas."

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**AN: Smut for You'vegotthis, forever a bad influence, who claims to love me more than this week's sneak peeks - WHAT ABOUT THE **_**AFTER THE STORM**_** SNEAK PEEKS? hmmm? More than THOSE? Yeah, that's what I thought. **

**Whenever my T-rated fics turn M, she's usually to blame. So blame her for this one in the reviews. **


	4. A time for hating and fighting to cease

_A series of snowy Christmas ficlets. (not-so) Short one-shots, that are all connected.  
_

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_A time for hating and fighting to cease._

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_December 25th 2012_

Peace. Joy. Hope. Love. Goodwill.

Christmas.

Even the soldiers during WWI had embraced the season, mingling and exchanging gifts in No Man's Land. Stories like that, of people coming together, putting aside their differences, and embracing the spirit of the holidays, always gave Kate hope.

Hope that one Christmas morning she wouldn't awake to the sound of murder - the familiar noise of her phone buzzing to indicate another life lost.

It was a constant in her life. Every Christmas morning, without fail, since she had first become a Rookie - that sound.

It had just never been quite this difficult to get out of bed and face it before.

Castle stirred beside her, his arm instinctively falling across her waist and pulling her to him. Even in his sleep he knew that sound, knew she was about to leave him. She turned in his arms as his eyes fluttered open, and she smiled sadly at him.

"There's been a murder."

He was still waking up, didn't quite register the meaning of her words.

"Mmmhmmm," he replied sleepily.

She kissed his lips, drawing him back to consciousness. "I'll see you later."

"Wait." He quickly blinked away the last cobwebs of sleep. His voice stronger, his brain more alert, he asked, "You're going?" He seemed shocked by that.

She smiled ruefully. "Its my job, Castle."

"I know but.. It's Christmas!"

"Since when does Death care what day it is?" He looked hurt then, by her words, her tone a little harder than she had intended, and the fact she was leaving. Leaning over him, she kissed his lips sweetly, lingering until a peck became more and his lips moved with hers. She broke the kiss, but kept her lips close to his. "I'll make it up to you," she promised.

"I'm coming," he said defiantly, pushing the sheet back and moving to sit.

She placed the tip of her finger on his bare chest, and pushed him back against the mattress. "No," she replied firmly. "You're going home, to spend Christmas Day with Martha and Alexis, and I'll join you as soon as I can."

"But-"

"Castle," she said, sighing heavily. "Be with your family. I'll get away as soon as I can."

His hands reached up to frame her face. "You should be with your family too."

Her heart felt like it exploded in her chest, clenching and expanding and flipping around, spun out of control by love. She slid down, her breasts flattening against her chest, against his, as she lay along the length of him. Her legs settled on either side of his, and she exhaled a sigh laced with arousal as he pressed hard and ready against her thin underwear. She hadn't meant to, hadn't intended to tease him, but when she felt him harden under her, press against her just a little more firmly, her hips moved forward, and she brushed the smooth fabric of her panties along him.

"Sorry," she murmured, her lips inches from his.

"You're killing me," he muttered in response. His fingertips trailed down her bare sides, making her squirm, causing her to press down just a little harder, and he held a breath to stay in control. He traveled lower, cupping her small, firm ass, before one hand slipped between her legs, slid between her skin and the fabric, and teased her slick heat.

She bucked against his hand, her head dropping, her eyes closing, her resolve crumbling.

"You've got, what?" He whispered into her ear. "Thirty minutes before they expect you there?"

His tongue found her earlobe, trailed a wet, warm path down her neck, and she whimpered. "Roughly," she managed to force out.

His fingers circled her, sliding up and around the center of her need for him. "So the way I see it we have five minutes."

"Not enough time," she replied, her voice husky and broken.

He parted her folds, and thrust two fingers deep within her. Her body shuddered above him, her hips grinding down to take him deeper. "Plenty," he replied. Sliding out of her, he pushed her panties to the side.

She moved up, pushing off his torso until she was raised up on her knees, straddling his hips. She placed a hand on his abdomen, the other grasped the sheet beside her, while he moved to enter her.

Four minutes, and counting, and he thrust deep as she sank down, encasing him completely. He sensed she would want to take a minute to silently revel in the feel of them being joined, but there was no time. He rocked his hips, moving within her, jolting her back, reminding her they had precious little time.

It felt so wrong - taking this moment when a life had just been lost - and the knowledge that they really shouldn't be doing this urged her on. She felt exhilarated, the rush of something inappropriate, of something Katherine Beckett would normally never do. But it was Christmas Day, and was it so wrong to start the day with a little joy before Death consumed her, demanded her attention, and kept her bound for the next... however many long, cold, hours.

And Castle felt so good. Always. He filled her, his hips thrusting and rotating to hit all the spots that made her cry out, made her body shudder, made her head loll back, her eyes close, and her lips part - and ultimately made her break apart, shuddering and gasping, in his arms.

The heat in her veins was unrelenting, building from the moment she had pressed her body against his, coursing through her, emanating out, and threatening to undo her.

His hand slipped between them, finding her sensitive bundle of nerves tumescent and ready.

Her head fell forward as his fingers began to circle her, his hips never ceasing. She sank down, harder, grinding against him, increasing the pressure of his touch.

She couldn't stay in control. She didn't want to.

He felt her tightening, felt her muscles clenching, watched as her head fell back, her back arched as she struggled to hold on, her skin warm and sanguine. "Let go, Kate." He breathed the sentence out, coaxing her orgasm out of her a little more with each word. "Let go."

She ground down hard, rotating her hips until he could barely thrust. She didn't need him to. He'd hit the spot and she was keeping him there, keeping him where she needed him as he hit it over and over, taking her closer to the edge with just the smallest of movements.

She held her breath as she reached the precipice, her long, lean body curved back and stationary - just for a moment - before she came undone. A small cry left her lips, and then she was falling forward, shuddering and boneless, as she came to lay upon him, their bodies still joined.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her as she came back into herself, as she regained control, and could move again. His fingertips rubbed circles against her back and he simply held her, wishing he didn't have to let her go. As she snuggled down a sound of sated joy bubbled out from between her lips, and he grinned, despite hating himself for what he was about to say. "You have to get up now."

The "don't wanna" was on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it down. She pushed up on her hands, pressed deep into the mattress, and surveyed him through displeased eyes. "You can't do _that_ to me and then expect me to be able to go to a crime scene like usual."

He grinned, his eyes sparkling. "Wouldn't be the first time. In fact," he said, way too proud of himself, "this _is _becoming the usual."

Easing off him, she rolled away and stood on shaky legs. While she disappeared into her bathroom to tidy herself up, he stood and made his way naked into her kitchen, turning on the coffee maker so she could at least start the day with caffeine in her system.

When she returned, dressed and put-together, he handed her the coffee mug. Once it was securely in her hand he pressed his lips to hers, his hands trailing around her hips, resting on her lower back, fingers splayed.

She returned the kiss, allowing his touch to draw her body to his. Her lips slanted against his, finding the rhythm, and moving lazily. She broke the kiss, a soft sigh escaping her mouth, before she could get too carried away, before she increased the pressure, pushed him back against the kitchen counter, and went for round two.

Needing a distraction, she raised the coffee mug between them and tested the heat of the coffee with a cautious sip. Finding it a safe temperature, she gulped it down quickly.

"Did you even taste that?" He asked teasingly, breaking the contact to retrieve his own coffee cup from the kitchen counter. He took a slow sip, drawing the action out, and savoring the flavors of the spicy Christmas blend.

"On a day like this it's not about the taste."

He swallowed quickly. "But it's Christmas."

"I meant, when you distract me with sex coffee becomes about nothing more than a caffeine fix." She handed him back her empty cup and gave him a small - but apologetic - smile.

"About that sex," he began slowly, hiding his smirk behind his cup. "You owe me big time."

Pulling her hair back into a ponytail, she wrapped a scarf around her neck, and leaned in to kiss his lips again, her boots bringing her up to his height. It was little more than a quick, goodbye kiss, but it still sent bolts of electricity coursing through her. She pulled back, her skin still flushed, her eyelids still heavy from the after-effects of the orgasm. She was leaving him in a state, she knew, but he wasn't the one about to go to a crime scene with the glow of sex all around him.

"Tonight," she promised. She would need it: a round two, perhaps three or four. She knew what was ahead of her, knew all too well the routine of the next few hours.

There was still hope. For her, there was still the possibility of joy and peace - just not for the family she would have to speak to this Christmas Day.

Today there would be presents under a tree that would never be opened.

Even during the WWI Christmas Truce soldiers were shot, men had lost their lives.

No, Death didn't care what day it was.

* * *

_Wishing you all a safe and wonderful holiday season. _

_Peace and love, Annie.  
_

_(Spread the joy? Leave a review?)_


	5. A new beginning

******A series of snowy Christmas ficlets. Short one-shots, that are all connected. **

**This chapter skips ahead one year  
**

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_The old has passed, there's a new beginning._

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_December 26th 2013_

The cooling tepid water lapped at her breasts, around the tops of her knees, as she lay submerged to her chest in the tub. She held her left hand outstretched before her, her eyes transfixed on the glittering diamond, and the gold band around her finger.

_Yes_.

Kate replayed the moment, in Castle's living room, in his loft, in front of the Christmas tree she had helped decorate this year. She had been quietly admiring the tree when movement in her peripheral vision had broken her from her reverie. She had turned and...

A yes, whispered at first, then repeated more firmly, had left her lips while he knelt before her, ring outstretched held securely between this thumb and forefinger, his eyes a mix of fear and hope. Would she say yes? Would she say no?

She had repeated her answer, almost a chant now, as his eyebrows had raised and his eyes widened, as his whoop of joy had pierced the air, and he'd pulled her in for a happy, crushing hug.

Tears had formed in his eyes, spilled from hers.

They had popped the Champagne, toasted to them, and found their way to his bed, where they had celebrated through the night.

Twenty four hours later, and it was all finally sinking in.

The bubbles had long since dissipated, and she knew if she turned her hand around she would see the pruning on the tips of her fingers. But her eyes remained fixed on the back of her hand, and the reason for the foreign feeling - the weight - on her ring finger.

Thirty four years old and she had never adorned that particular finger before – and it both exhilarated and terrified her.

She had said yes. Christmas day, 2013. She had said yes.

Her focus shifted, her eyes taking in the small bathroom around her. So much would be changing soon. She would be relocating, officially moving into the loft, and this place - her home - would be sold on to someone else.

They hadn't even picked a date yet; he hadn't pushed her after placing the ring on her finger, giving her the time she needed before dates were discussed.

Earlier today, as she had kissed him goodbye, her lips had lingered above his after they had parted, long enough for her to breathe out the word "_Yes_". To reassure him that nothing had changed overnight. There had been no doubt in her answer the first time.

She had then driven to her father's cabin, spent the day with her dad, and shared the news. He had reduced her to tears with the first words that left his lips.

"_Rick is a good man_."

Her tears continued to flow as he added, "_Your mother would be so proud of you, Katie_."

His lack of surprise had made her suspicious. Through her tears she said, "_He came to you and asked for your blessing didn't he._"

Although he was silent, her father's smile, that he failed to repress, confirmed it.

She had chuckled, hugged her father, and thanked him for keeping the secret.

Driving back into NYC in the early evening, as the snow had begun to fall, she had made her way home, filled the tub, and sank beneath the warmth. She would go to him again tonight - soon - and the planning would begin, but first she had needed a long soak, a glass of red wine, and the time alone for it all to sink in.

And now that it had, nothing had ever felt so right before.

* * *

_Merry Christmas!  
_


End file.
